


Used To Be A Sweet Boy

by backbedroomcasualty



Category: The Smiths
Genre: M/M, Rentboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3084071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backbedroomcasualty/pseuds/backbedroomcasualty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One fateful rainy day Morrissey decides to take a bus to see his friend Linder. Instead, he accidentally finds himself caught in Manchester's thrilling red light district...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Buses

**Author's Note:**

> This is horribly rubbish and derivative but at least it's geographically accurate eh

Steven blustered onto the shabby bus, flicking the rainwater from his floppy mess of dark hair out of his face.  
“Single to Whalley Range,” he muttered at the disgruntled bus driver, “please,” he added, forcing a polite smile out of himself. He reached into a pocket of his belted pocket and handed over some coins, before sitting down at the first seat he came to. Surely his book wouldn’t have been too wrecked by the wet from waiting for the bus for a small age, he hoped, as he reopened it and began to read. He got barely a sentence in before someone nudged him, stopping him in his train of thought. The joys of public transport…  
“Eh, you ‘eaded the same way as me then?” Some unruly, shaggy haired juvenile who was sat next to him asked him quietly.  
“I hope not,” Steven glared back at him, and tried to refocus his attention on his literature.  
“Yeah you are, I heard you get your ticket,” he winked at Steven, who considered getting up and moving across to the other side of the bus, but thought better of it (he really didn’t want to cause a scene on a bus like this).  
“Oh, well, what do you want from me anyway?” His voice slightly raised, which made the lad shuffle back in his chair a little.  
“Well, what’s your price?” The scruff lowered his head in the direction of the lower section of Steven’s coat and smiled slightly.  
“Oh my!” He replied, aghast. Surely the boy didn’t think he was a…  
“I’m only a tenner a go. Do you think I should raise my prices a bit? Fags don’t pay for themselves you know? I suppose I do it for the pleasure... ” He continued, ignoring Steven’s confusion at what he had mistaken him for.  
“Oh so you are?” Steven raised his eyebrows, god forbid, he was taking an interest in this boy.  
“You aren’t?” He replied with even more disbelief. “I thought with the coat and the pretty boy face I that you were heading for a cli-”  
“This is my stop,” Steven interrupted, not wanting to be told why he looked like a prostitute.  
“It’s mine as well,” The boy could talk for England, Steven sighed to himself.  
“It’s the red light district isn’t it, of course.” he turned away from him, resigned, and got off the bus. He tightened the belt on his coat as an extra measure as he stepped onto the road.  
“Wait!” Damn, he’d followed him like a naive puppy, which was odd when you considered where and why he was going. Steven hesitated, then turned around. After all he needed some excitement in his life for once.


	2. I'd Love To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven finally gets a job but he isn't miserable now ;)

“I’m Andy,” the boy announced, and shot out a hand to greet him. Steven refused, but instead awkwardly answered “Bona to vada,”, slightly curious about what the boy was after.  
“What?”  
“Call yourself a rentboy!” Steven sighed. “‘Good to see you’ in palare,”  
“You’re a natural!” Andy laughed, and looked at him expectantly. “Well, what’s your name?”   
“Oh, uh, Patrick,” he answered. He thought it’d be best not to be known too well by these types. Andy nodded with a sly grin.  
“Neither of us want this to be goodbye, admit it,” he leaned in and whispered in his ear.  
“...ten pounds is awfully cheap isn’t it?”  
“You reckon you could go for more do you? I suppose with your hair and everything you’re a reasonably good buy…” Steven began to wonder what he was really getting himself into now, “unless you’ve got something better to do,”  
“I assure you I haven’t” he replied a little too quickly.  
“You’re free to follow me, but only if you want to,” Andy told him breathlessly, and took Steven’s hand with a slight vigour before breaking into a run down the road. “Come on! We’re running late and they’ll pay us less!” He panted at them. After a few seconds they arrived outside a fairly grand, old (most likely Victorian) house that was covered in shrubbery. “You might want to undo your belt a little, are you sure you want to do this?” Andy asked him in a slightly more serious tone once he had regained his breath. Steven made a small nod and stepped forward to knock on the door.  
“Be nice,”  
“I’ll try my best,” It was still raining heavily. Hopefully it would be nice and cosy inside, or maybe he was being naive.   
He’d come all this way, he must be very naive.

It was an older man, by quite a few years. Steven felt awkward as he felt the man eye him as he took off his clothes; his shirt, his trousers, his trunks…  
After a few minutes a very red faced Steven returned round the corner from the house where Andy had been waiting for him (he’d been looking through Steven’s damp book), cash in his hand and belt strapped tightly round his coat yet again.  
“Well, how was it?” He asked expectantly.  
“I think he knew it was my first time. He was very nice, I think.” Steven finally spoke after mulling it over in his head for some time. It had been strange, yes, but he hadn’t hated it. His mind was racing, in fact.  
“Well I’ll split the money 25/75 with you, since I brought you here I deserve my quarter. Do you want to do it again?”  
“I get the feeling that you experience more in one Saturday night than I’ve had in an entire lifetime,” he said quietly. “I’ll meet you again tomorrow night at the same time as I did before,”   
“You’re that desperate huh?”


	3. Have-A-Go-Merchant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven catches the sight of a young quiffed boy with brown hair...

‘Going to some feminist society meeting with Linder in town’ was his excuse for leaving the house. Mother raised her eyebrows (it must be something that ran in the family) and simply said “And what time are you coming home?”  
He was a grown man, nearly 22, yet she still kept her eye on him as if he was a teenager. No wonder he was suddenly being so wild and rebellious.  
“Oh I don’t know, there’s a lot to discuss, we might be a few hours…” he mumbled at her before shutting the door behind him quite forcefully.  
“I hope you’ve cleaned your glasses!” She shouted from the window as he hobbled down the window, which he chose to ignore. He realised he probably should have left them at home, but he didn’t want to miss the bus which was rushing down the street behind him.  
“Single to Whalley Range,” he grimaced as he handed over his coins. Andy was sat at the back, sprawled across two seats, an unlit cigarette between his lips and his hair the same tatty mess that it was yesterday, like some bohemian drug addict from the 60s.  
“You slag!” He laughed quietly as Steven sat down beside him. “I hope you don’t think I normally drag pretty boys off the street and send them to strange men,” he continued in the same tone.  
“You’d have more money to pay for a better haircut if you did,” Steven retorted.  
“I honestly thought you were one mate,” ignoring Steven’s remark.  
“You thought I was a whore,” he looked at Andy with slight disgust. Steven Patrick Morrissey, a prostitute.  
“Well you don’t look like you have a job,” Steven laughed loudly, causing the few maudlin individuals who were nearby to turn round. They barely knew each other (Andy didn’t even know his first name) but they seemed to understand each other so well, what each other wanted from life.  
“Well, you?” He thought he had to make some polite conversation out of this incredibly odd situation.  
“I’m on the dole, I just do this for a few quid on the side,” He confessed, and looked down glumly. Steven realised that they were both in the same tiring situation; unemployed and broke beyond despair but not too thrilled to do anything about it. “I’m in a band as well, with one of my old mates on guitar, he’s really bloody good, and this drummer. We’re alright, pretty funky if you ask me,” he was smiling with his head to one side, with a sort of thoughtful look on his face and a glassy daze.  
“Do you sing? Or does the guitarist?” He enquired. How fascinating this creature from the bus was turning out to be!  
“None of us really. We can’t find a singer either,” Steven thought to himself about how he’d spent so much of his life wanting to be in a band again after that one, dreadful time years ago, but thought against him. It was always better to keep one's professional life and their personal recreation separate, not that he was too sure which this came under.  
“Oh, that’s a shame,” he eventually answered. “What are we doing tonight then?” he asked brightly.  
“Well last night was unusual because someone had ordered me to their place. I’m not normally that lucky, so I guess we might just hang around a bit to see if anything happens,” Andy confessed, still in the hushed tone. He motioned for them to get off the bus. As they got off Steven froze.  
“Pat, are you alright?” Andy asked.  
“Please Andy, Patrick. Pat is the name of a receptionist who wears 100 denier tights,” he scowled at him.  
“How do you know so much about ladies’ tights?”  
“Oh grow up,” He wondered just how old Andy actually was, presumably quite a few years younger than himself, which put a strange perspective on things. “My friend lives on this street. What if she sees me… you know…”  
“Give her a special discount!” He chortled back in his best Sid James impression, scorning Steven’s apparent embarrassment who in turn pulled a very Kenneth Williams--esque face back at him. To think, he could be back in his bed listening to records or something respectably dull. No, he had to do this. 

The bitterly cold January air was unrelenting in blowing the hair in Steven’s face.  
“How much is a can of Elnette?” He whimpered despairingly.  
“Uh, I think it’s a quid when I have to buy it for my mum,” Andy replied, slightly bemused by the image of him pampering himself with his hair all in curlers in a hairdresser’s. They’d been hanging in front of some abandoned cafe for the best part of an hour, with Andy leering suggestively at any poor sod who walked past them. Steven was growing tired; he’d been expecting something to happen but they honestly just seemed to be loitering, doing nothing apart from standing outside in the freezing cold. After a few more minutes of icy silence Andy announced that he needed the loo and was going to find a different cafe.  
“Perhaps I should come with you?” Steven asked politely.  
“You saucy bugger!” Andy laughed back at him, and scarpered across the road. A few moments later he worked out what Andy had presumed he’d offered and scowled profusely.  
“Pssttt,” A voice whispered, and he slowly turned to face another young, shorter man with dark hair styled into a ridiculous quiff.  
“Yes…” Steven trembled back nervously. they both looked quite nervous in all honesty, but he wanted to judge the situation slowly.  
“I’ve got a tenner. Cash,” He continued. He spoke very rapidly and in a dense accent that made Andy sound like the Duke of Edinburgh in comparison. He had a leather jacket on, albeit very tattered and worn, but Steven couldn’t really make out much else. It seemed like a risk he was willing to take.  
“Oh, alright then,” he relented, and took out a marker pen from his coat pocket. He scrawled on one of the bricks ‘Andy- got client- see you tomorrow- Pat’ before adding some kisses as an afterthought.


	4. Handsome Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven follows the quiffed little rebel back to his place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta NSFW. I didn't really write the smut, my friend did but she shall remain anonymous to protect her dignity.

The apartment was cramped and dimly lit, but at least it was warm. In the living room there was a hideous carpet, stack of records next to a stereo and a guitar, nothing more.  
“Uh, we better go to the bedroom,” the young man motioned to a door, his hands shaking behind his otherwise cool exterior.  
“Oh of course,” Steven answered. Well where else were they going to do it?  
The queen-sized bed was the only thing in the room besides from some jackets which had been strewn across the floor with a sprinkling of cigarette butts. Steven gulped, but what else had he expected? It was if he was some groupie to a rockstar in waiting. The boy with brown hair (and equally brown eyes, Steven made particular note) sat down immediately on the bed and hurriedly ripped off his leather jacket. He looked so innocent, did he know what he had let himself in for? Steven tried to erase the thought out of his head as he did the same with his beige coat and went through the same process as last night, slowly taking off each individual garment and casting it aside onto the floor with the rest of the muck. When he was stripped to his waist he joined him on the bed and helped the boy with his checked shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, softly stroking his torso as he did so and pecking down his bony neck all the way to his collarbone. It was like the previous night, but this seemed more natural and less cringeworthy than before. He was actually enjoying who he was doing this to, instead of the mere thought that he was actually doing it to somebody.  
“So, what’s your name,” Steven whispered in a giggle.  
“Johnny,” he moaned. He’d probably asked in an awkward moment but neither of them seemed too fussed.  
As clothing slowly turned to flesh, Steven continued with his kisses down Johnny's pale, fragile swan-like neck. Whilst doing so he slid his hand down Johnny's pale chest, causing him to gasp. Johnny could feel the warmth of Steven against him, it was like a strange tickling sensation he hadn't felt before. He could hear his hot and heavy breath from behind as he began to nibble on his ear and they both collapsed onto the bed so their eyes locked. Steven's a piercing bright blue, Johnny's a soft, almost feminine brown.  
"You don't know what you're fucking doing do you?" Johnny finally yelped between thick, hot, sloppy kisses all over each other's faces that were devoid of any delicacy or restraint. He was devouring him.  
"Does it really matter?" Steven paused to answer, before tugging Johnny's soft, thin body closer towards him. He rolled over the younger man's bare body and each breath between their passionate embraces got heavier and heavier.  
Suddenly Steven dove deeper down and began to skim over Johnny's abdomen, who in turn was stroking his small, calloused fingertips over Steven's flesh, feeling every detail of his skinny body; every muscle and bone now belonged to him. Steven's hips were bony and thin, but there was an entangling rush as they both undid the belts on their Levi's, getting much more than they had bargained for. There was a sudden clatter as both belts were flung onto the floor in a flurry. Their hands travelled even further south, sliding down each other's backs as they slowly unzipped the fly on their jeans and were yanked down onto the floor.  
"Fuckkk," Johnny sighed as he made note of the obvious, prompting Steven to push himself hard down into Johnny's throat to silence him. Steven made a low, almost growling groan. Their underwear was on the bottom of Johnny's bed within a matter of seconds and they rolled over yet again, clinging desperately to each other's sweaty bodies.

The pair ended up so that Steven was on top of Johnny, his hips pressing down onto the pale torso of the smaller and younger man. His lips suckled at Johnny's pale neck, but there was a sense of impatience growing between both of them as Johnny dragged his short nails down the other's back, making the already non existent distance between their bodies even smaller.  
"Take me," Johnny whined into Steven's ear, wrapping his skinny legs around his waist.  
This sudden request made Steven stumble, but he whispered an agreement and asked where the necessary items were to be found in the bedroom. Instead of telling him, Johnny reached for the drawer and yanked it open himself. Getting the hint, Steven fumbled for the things and tried to be as quick as possible.

The unpleasant part didn't last long, and soon Steven was pulling on the condom and putting himself in the right position. Now, Johnny's hands were gripping at Steven's hips, his thumbs digging into the soft skin and pulling them down to his entrance. 

Steven bent down again, craning his neck to kiss Johnny's soft lips sloppily as he pushed in, trying to be as gentle as he could so he wouldn't hurt him. Despite this, a pained groan, almost a cry, came from Johnny, although it was muffled heavily by Steven's pink lips. Slowly, Steven pulled back out, and thrust back inside, the heat making his head swirl and his breathing get, if possible, even heavier and rapid. This time Johnny didn't cry out, but he did groan through gritted teeth.

With each thrust, the groans of pain turned to moands of pure pleasure. And Steven was enjoying this. He was enjoying the closeness, the dazed confusion that was swirling his head, the pure and utter pleasure that made his arms shake beneath him. 

When it ended, both of them crying into each other as the peak of their pleasure came like a wave over them, neither seemed to move apart. Sloppy kisses carried on, but the quick passion was gone, and so was the urgency. It was over, even though neither party wanted it to be, and eventually Steven got up and threw the condom in the bin.


	5. Pashernate Love

Steven hastily began to gather his clothes and put them on, stumbling awkwardly and clumsily in front of Johnny. Johnny, of course, didn't feel any sort need for Steven's haste and continued to lie in the bed.  
"Why are you leaving so soon?" He asked Steven innocently, with deep, desperate puppy dog eyes which were luring him back to the bed where he wanted to be.  
"Alas my love, I'll see you somewhere..." He answered breathlessly, though it came out very cheesy and cringeworthy. He couldn't stand it any longer, and turned away from Johnny's longing eyes. He had to stay professional.  
"Come on, spend the night with me," he pleaded, still stuck firmly in the bed.  
"Can I have my money now please? I think we're done," he tried to stick to the point. He had to draw the line between client and lover, but as he sighed as he turned back to face Johnny one last time, it inevitably wouldn't be that easy.  
When he had his pants and trousers back on he slid back onto the bed and kissed Johnny tenderly on his graceful neck.  
"I'll be back, Johnny boy," he whispered in an unusually giggly tone, winking, before rounding off by rolling over Johnny's body once more to kiss him on the other side of his neck and take a brief nibble on his ear.

"Mmmm.....uhhhhh.....the money's under your pillow. Just take all you fucking want." Johnny moaned back. Looking round at the squalor he found himself in, Steven doubted that there was much money going spare. Sure enough there were only a few notes under the threadbare pillow, and Steven decided to not take any. This wasn't any ordinary job; he'd felt something extraordinary with Johnny that he'd never felt before, something that didn't happen every day. As silly as it sounded, it seemed wrong to take money from him. He slid back off the bed and fished inside his coat pocket, finding a pen and an old receipt for cat food or something, before proceeding to scrawl the digits of his telephone number down.  
"Call me anytime, please my love," he purred, handing Johnny the note. "I have to go..." He trailed off, and began to put his shirt on over his skinny, sweaty body. He took one final faze at him; the quiff ruffled beyond repair, the dazed look on his folorn yet youthful face, the cigarette ends scattered around the floor. Steven felt like he was stepping away from his own little rock and roll fantasy. Johnny took out a lighter and another cigarette and started to have a smoke, which, as attractive as the whole situation looked, seemed like the right time for Steven to leave.

As the apartment door closed behind him a tear trickled down his face. Why had he left so soon when it was all going so well? What had he been afraid of?


	6. Tomorrow

"Steven, when did you get home last night?" His mother asked the next day over breakfast.

"Oh I don't know, the meeting overran..." Steven bumbled back, letting his mind float back to the memories of last night. "Oh, alright," she answered suspiciously before returning to her tea.

"What?" He asked, returning back to reality.

"You seem to be spending a lot of time with this young lady, Steven," she glinted hopefully.

"Mother!" He stammered and got out of his chair. "I am not in a relationship with Linder!"

"Well you are an adult now. You know when I was your age-"

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"I wish you did as well," and with that they both left the table. Steven could sense that she truly cared and supported him, but she really did wish things were better. It had been like this for months, no, years, and they were both getting tired of this life together.

The morning had been typically dull and uneventful; Steven had gone back to bed after mother had left, read for a while and then gone for a walk through the streets. All the memories of last night seemed so distant and totally alien to his real life; they couldn't possibly be true. He'd felt attraction, excitement and adoration, it seemed so strange to think about.

When he got back inside from the chilly air the phone suddenly rang.

"Hello?" He answered with trepidation. Perhaps it was his auntie or someone else who never usually bothered.

"It's me," the voice replied. Steven rolled his eyes.

"That's reassuring, and you are?"

"Johnny," he paused "from last night,"

"Oh errm," so it had been all real...

"I can't stand to be alone without you. I need to see you again," he rushed. Steven did a strange schoolgirl mix of blushing and a slight giggle.

"Who? Me?" He said, very bemused indeed.

"Well whoever fucked me last night. Are you busy tomorrow or whatever?"

"I'm never busy," he told Johnny a lot more gleefully than he should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update :)


	7. Back To The Old House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a crap ending sorry just basically Moz and Johnny are going out and I needed a way to end this so

"Single to Whalley Range," Steven sniffed at the bus driver as he handed him some coins. He drifted to the nearest seat, slumping next to a window so he'd have something to look amuse himself with as he stared out of the window.

"Pat?" He turned round in an instant, fearing the worst. It was. "I thought you were dead!" The familiar face of Andy blustered at him.

"You don't see me for a month and you think I'm dead?"

"Well yeah, you didn't even get on the bus or nout. I dunno, what happened to you?"

"I'm deeply sorry to break this to you but I'm still alive, just." He'd pushed his eventful weekend as deeply out of his mind as possible and cringed at the very thought of it now. At least he'd managed to stumble across Johnny as a result of it. God, just a month ago he'd been so desperate and hopeless about love and now he was in a serious relationship. The only drawback was that he wasn't getting paid for it anymore.

"So... Still on the dole?"

"No, I've decided to become a famous Russian porn star. You've given me the confidence boost I needed you old slag," he answered. The lady next to him moved across to the other side of the bus. "How are things for you?"

"Well the band's sort of breaking up. Our recording contract sort of fell through, so same old same old I suppose. Where're you going?" And off they went, chatting with the same natural awkwardness as before.

"Ah, this is my stop," Steven finally told Andy with a tinge of regret.

"You're never going to talk to me again, are you?"

"No," and off he stepped into the grey drizzle, shunning the What Had Beens and grinning at the What Shall Bes.


End file.
